The Importance of Giving Yourself Space to Dream

Sunrise, La Napoule

As some of you know, I participate in the wonderful, cross-discipline project fotografar palavras, which was started by Portuguese writer Paulo Kellerman. Here’s the link: http//fotografarpalavras.blogspot.com/2024/06/4799.html?m=1. The name of this group means photograph and word in English and Paulo pairs images with poems or excerpts of writings. I was given a prompt to provide an image for earlier this spring and then I broke my ankle and traveled to France and didn’t get to it until the other day. Of course there is always the question of whether translations are totally accurate from one language to another, and whether something is lost or if I understand the sense of the text completely. Yet this also introduces an aspect of freedom that stops me from feeling too boxed in. The line I was given was by Márcia Oliveira. She wrote: “Every other day, you rise sun and show yourself horizon.” I remember when I got the prompt I was a bit flummoxed about why the sun only rose and showed itself horizon every other day, since I know the sun rises every day. One morning, while I was at Aline Smithson’s Room to Dream artist retreat outside of Nice, I woke up very early and walked down to the beach to see the sunrise and I remembered the prompt and made this image and some others. The structure on the left is the Château de la Napoule and the ships in the distance are moored in Port La Napoule. We stayed in the Villa Marguerite across the street and had breakfast in the Château every morning and were free to explore and photograph the building and grounds. I was there with twelve other women (and one attendee’s wonderful husband) and the time we spent together was absolutely magical. When I got home and prepared this image to send to Paulo, I also finally understood the text in light of my experience at this exceptional retreat.

The sun does indeed rise every day. However, our responsibilities and relationships can clutter our minds so much that they drown out our own intuition, and we can feel like we are in a rut in our lives and in our creative pursuits. Sometimes that can be because our artistic explorations are going exceptionally well and that motivates us to stay with one project and delve deeper and deeper, which is great. But other times, we can keep creating in the same way because it is easy since we’ve done it before. We might stop being fully present while in the act of creation and stop exploring new ways of seeing. In yoga, they talk about samskaras, which are explained as mental imprints from past experiences that influence our impressions of the present. When we don’t have enough time for ourselves and room to dream, our seeing becomes more habitual and we may forget to notice the miracle that happens when the sun rises. It is never the same sunrise and each time it shows itself and us its horizon, it means that a new day is here and change and fresh starts are possible. When we really “see” the sunrise, we remember not to take life fore granted and when the golden light first touches everything around us, the magic of existence is palpable. This doesn’t mean we have to forget what we have done before and keep re-inventing the wheel, but it does mean that we can see with fresh eyes. For me, my time at La Napoule allowed me to experience the joys of photography again, especially the excitement I feel every time I reach for my camera when I notice something wonderful. Connecting with a group of people who were willing to take chances and offer support to one another in following their unique creative vision was a real gift, and I believe our creativity and confidence expanded exponentially. (Anyone who is willing to sign up for a “Room to Dream” workshop is likely ready to take a leap into the unknown.) I know all our work will shift from being there. It might take some time for all of what we were exposed to and experienced to come through in our work, but the door to new ways of seeing and being has been opened. Given the state of our world right now, the freedom to dream of new possibilities isn’t trivial, it’s essential. Expressing our responses to the current state of the world also helps us feel empowered and hopeful, even if our expression is to focus on light and beauty instead of the darkness.

Golden Waves Typology

After I photographed the sunrise, I turned around and saw the golden light illuminating the water behind me as the waves came upon shore in a myriad of different patterns. Each line created by the waves as they touched the sand was different, and nothing remained the same for even a moment. The waves kept coming and I kept seeing and appreciating them for the entire time the light contributed its magic. This brings me to the second part of the text that intrigued me. Márcia wrote that the sun showed itself horizon. I took this to mean that the sun revelled in everything it was able to perceive through its illuminative powers, although they weren’t guaranteed since other elements in the universe could obscure the sun’s light. I recognised my time in La Napoule and this spectacular display was fleeting and impermanent and this made the experience ever more beautiful. It is conceivable that if I saw this scene every day, eventually I might not be in such awe, though I wish to believe I would never become jaded. Yet, there is something to be said for not making ourselves witness the sunrise every day (besides potentially not enough sleep). Epiphanies are moments when we see beyond our limitations and connect with something universal and timeless, but they aren’t and can’t be sustained indefinitely in a frozen way. There might be clouds the next time the sun rises, or we might be in a clouded mental state that prevents us from fully opening our eyes. But remembering to open ourselves to really see the sun show its horizon every other day is a worthy goal and a reminder for us to keep following and appreciating the light and to keep our dreams alive or dream new ones.

Dusk on the Beach at La Napoule

The sea was a meeting point for so many aspects of life, which I witnessed both during the day and in the evenings. Yachts were moored nearby and families with children came to enjoy the serenity and beauty of this amazing coastline. In our culture, having assets is stressed as the measure of success by many and we can get so rapped up in striving for those yachts or museum exhibitions, or whatever it is that we covet, that we forget that life can be enjoyed by sitting on a beach, having a picnic in a park, or walking in the woods. My own children are grown now, but coming upon this group of people reminded me of how joyful I felt when my children and I spent time outside with friends when they were younger. I never felt that I should be anywhere else or doing something more important. Kids are often better than we are at being in the moment and are great teachers. It helps that being playful is what we often encourage them to do. As we get older, we are told to be more serious and actually accomplish things. If you don’t, then you are a failure. One thing I really loved about the Room to Dream retreat was that Aline said she didn’t care if we created anything at all. Of course we all did, but her words signaled to me that it was more important to connect with the parts of our minds that are engaged when we open ourselves to new discoveries and dreaming. In the real world of our daily lives, it is so easy for our castles in the sand to be crushed by the weight of needing recognition or validation. Put in the perspective of deep time, nothing we actually do will likely endure beyond a few generations at most. What matters is playing together, talking, connecting, and feeling grateful at the end of the day for the gifts we have been given by being able to spend time with people close to us or new friends, as in the case of this retreat. If we can help anyone else experience life more positively in the process, that is a wonderful bonus. However, we don’t have control over whether people accept or reject the gifts or creations we offer.

Mystical Movements

One evening, I decided to venture a little further along the coastline, even though I was apprehensive about walking on the rocks in the near dark with my ankle in a boot. Fortunately, there was a stone wall that I could use as a banister. It was also great for resting my camera to make this long exposure. I loved watching the waves wash in and around the rocks over and over again, making sounds that I imagined as womblike. As dusk settled, the individual waves all blended into one continuous flow and the water seemed to take on a life of its own. My whole life I have been drawn to light and water: light for how it illuminates what is and water for allowing me to connect with what isn’t always visible in one glimpse. Water is every changing, sixty percent of our bodies is water, it contains the past, present, and future, and it can mirror both our external appearance and what still lays dormant in our unconscious yet to be brought to light. Holding this retreat by the sea, where we were able to feel the influence of this beautiful element and be inspired by it was such an added bonus. Just like the text about the sunrise suggested, we don’t have to witness every sunset to remember that it is possible to achieve a flow state where we are able to explore our dreams and connect with our intuition and the internal sources of our creativity. In my lifetime, I have been to a few special places like this and I tell myself to use all my senses to commit to memory the sounds, sights, feelings, and connections I experienced, as well as any epiphanies I felt I had, even if I am sure daily life will squelch them later. Perhaps it is the fragility of these liminal states that inspires me to find ways to memorialise these moments, so my creative well won’t run dry when doubts begin to creep in. At the end of the day, what the rest of the world thinks about what we’ve created doesn’t matter, although of course it is always wonderful to be recognised and appreciated, its about whether we have allowed ourselves to create meaning in our own lives and if we’ve celebrated the gift of life we have been given to the best of our abilities. I am so deeply grateful to Aline Smithson, Samantha Johnston, and the ten other participants I shared this special time with. I could not have achieved this spiritual regeneration without you special women.